


Be More Kind

by KittenTalesAuthor



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Deathclaw, Deathclaw Companion, Deathclaws, Fallout, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gunshot, Gunshot Wounds, Minutemen, Short Story, Sniper - Freeform, Sole Survivor, taffington boathouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22346557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenTalesAuthor/pseuds/KittenTalesAuthor
Summary: All throughout the wastes of what used to be known as the United States, the mighty Deathclaw is feared by those who seek to rebuild. The consequences of the war have caused for beasts like those to emerge from the ashes of human hatred, but _______ refuses to continue the cycle of kill or be killed. When the settlers of the Taffington Boathouse call for help from the Minutemen, she decides to go about things in an unconventional direction.***THIS IS A STORY ABOUT FRIENDSHIP***
Relationships: Deathclaw(s) & Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	Be More Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, ya'll!  
> Just wanna let you guys know that I am NOT dropping the Outlast fic or anything. I just don't really have the time to note out chapters for it right now because of school (I am very detailed and thorough with that kind of thing), but I felt like writing something to get those creative juices pumping and I have been playing a lot of Fallout 4 during my free time, so this is sort of a cute fluffy idea I had as a way of the Sole Survivor to end up getting a Deathclaw companion (cause who doesn't want a Deathclaw companion, ammi right?)! owo  
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!  
> Happy reading~!

There was a stir within the settlement established in the Taffington Boathouse this evening when _______ came to their aid.

The settlers whom had deemed the decrepit home their own were bustling with nervous chatter just a few feet beyond its porch, feet shuffling in uncertainty and hands pressed to guns holstered on their hips.

Nowadays, it was suicide to live in the Commonwealth without some form of defense. Most anyone who was anyone owned and knew how to use a gun, no matter what it was nor how cheaply it was made. Raiders in particular had gotten fairly good over the years at crafting guns using pipes and other materials of the likes they find littering the wasteland. Thanks to the help of the Minutemen, it wasn’t long before settlers like those in the Taffington Boathouse began to learn to make their own as well.

Yet, despite that, the small group of people still huddled close together in fear at the foot of their vulnerable home. Nobody dared move an inch forward, though a few had coward their way back into the refuge of their shelter to gaze upon the outside through some of the various gaping holes on the walls they had yet to repair.

“It’s alright, everyone,” _______ eventually spoke up at the front of the group, hands raised, attempting to gain their attention and simmer down their antsy, fearful ways. “You all know the Minutemen are always here to help. I’ve helped you all before, and I’ll help you through whatever is troubling you again.” With an affirmative nod, she turned her gaze on the person she knew was the closest these people had as a leader when she wasn’t around. “So tell me, what’s got you all so shaken up? Did any Raiders come around again recently?”

The man whom she focused on visibly tensed up, shivering in his boots. These people clearly weren’t bred for the way of life they’re forced to live in.

She reckoned nobody truly was, really.

“P-please keep your voice down!” He whimpered out in reply as the group behind him settled into a common, uncomfortable silence. “Raiders aren’t the problem…”

_______ furrowed her brow. “Then what _is_ the problem?”

Shakily, the man lifted his free hand and pointed a calloused finger in the direction of the distant field of tall ashen grass, dead trees and nothingness behind her. Promptly, she turned to look while awaiting the answer to her question.

“In the grass…!” A woman choked out on a frightful cry. “It’s in the grass!”

“ _What_ is in the grass?”

“A _Deathclaw_!”

The hair on the back of _______’s neck stood on end as the word hung in the air for a few moments of suspended silence before the group of settlers began to chatter their concerns and fears to the woman whom had arrived to save them. However, their voices all fell upon deaf ears, drowning out in the background as white noise to her.

She had never faced a Deathclaw in combat before. She knew of the stories, knew of their power and had witnessed it with her own two eyes once in the cover of night during her travels when a fully grown male had attacked a group of Radstag near her position. She knew of their notorious rep all throughout the wastes, but never had she ever slain one of the mighty legends.

She didn’t really know if she wanted to, either.

Instinctively, her hand found its way to the holster of her .44 pistol though a part of her told her she would be a dead woman if she only used this to take the beast down should the situation escalate. She shook her head, attempting to dismiss the thoughts before looking over her shoulder to offer the settlers a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take a look and take care of things. Get inside, and anyone with a sniper try to cover me if things get ugly. _Only_ if things get ugly. Don’t get involved if it isn’t necessary.”

Without waiting for a response, she faced forward and began to trek out and passed the broken, cracked concrete road between the boathouse and the outskirts. The nervous chittering of the people she left behind quickly drowned out to the sound of the breeze rushing through the bustling dead land. She remained alert, slowing her pace down to a steady, cautious tread once her feet had begun to traverse the scratchy foliage beyond.

As she slowly made her way up the hill, it wasn’t long before the enormous beast came into view. If she hadn’t been looking carefully, she would have missed him entirely. The deep, dark grayish color of his scales and his rugged, deathly looking exterior helped him blend in nearly seamlessly with the landscape around him. However, there was something strange about the Deathclaw and how he was currently acting. This mighty beast was strewn across the dead field in front of a small hill of boulders and between a cluster of wilted trees whose last days were seen several centuries ago. Still, their beige petrified trunks remained taut in place where they almost seemed to cradle the Deathclaw in his lain position.

As soon as she saw it, the woman came to a crouch and pulled her pistol out of its holster, pointing it at the mighty beast of the wastes. Her breath hitched in her throat and she stared at him, wide eyed.

_______ had never been afraid of meddling with Raiders to wipe out their gangs when they caused trouble nor had she ever felt apprehension when faced by a group of Gunners with the sole intent of killing her for the goods she carried on her person – but crouched here before the enormous creature caused that sense of terrifying adrenaline to pump through her veins.

She swallowed hard, wrapping her forefinger around the trigger of her pistol. What was she supposed to do now? Shoot it to death? Maybe if she got a good angle at his forehead she would be able to get the job done, but as she slowly crept around to find a good position to attempt it, the idea of the plan fell like a heavy rock in the pit of the woman’s stomach.

Why did she have to kill him? It’s not like the beast had been doing anything to the settlers nor the settlement they called home.

No, he was just lying there, curled up amongst the lifeless foliage, minding his own business.

The more she thought of it, the more the idea of killing him in cold blood like this sickened her. _______ had never been a fan of senselessly killing animals. She hated the idea of it back when she was living her regular life before the war, and she hated it now that she was surrounded by a plethora of new animals and beasts the consequences of the war had created.

Perhaps it was naïve and perhaps it was an easier way of getting herself killed in the Commonwealth sooner rather than later, but she had always preferred a peaceful resolution to problems rather than resorting to the killing machine strapped to her hip.

People seldom left her with a choice on the matter, but animals? Animals are different.

The Deathclaw wasn’t stealing from Taffington, killing any of the settlers or kidnapping them for human trafficking like Raiders and Gunners would. _______ had only been sent this way by Preston to deal with the matter because the settlers of Taffington had been panicking and anxious for several days. Caravans have also apparently become apprehensive of roaming by Taffington because of the rumors that were beginning to sprout due to their panic. Nobody had a straight answer as to what was causing all of this until she finally came out to check it on her own.

If it really wanted to kill them, it would have done it by now. So, why did she have to pull the trigger first if death wasn’t the creature’s intention?

She was so lost in thought over the morality of the dilemma as she observed the resting beast that she hadn’t even noticed when her foot had fallen heavily on an old, dried branch. One of the many scattered in the field amongst fallen and decaying trees.

One of the many that gave a practically ear-splitting **_CRACK_** when pressure was applied to its aching bark.

_______’s breath hitched so painfully in her throat by reflex of the sound that her vision became slightly spotted for a few seconds. She cursed in her head a million times because of her carelessness, and unsurprisingly, she watched as the beast turned his head to focus his bright golden eyes on her.

She squeezed the grip of her pistol tightly in her hold as her (eye color) eyes widened and stared back into the eyes of the massive creature. From such a close distance, she could see in great detail the patterns the patches of his scales formed around his intricate form and how their colors would differ in shade depending on what parts of the body they were located. The areas around his eyes, nose and mouth were noticeably paler in comparison to the patches on the rest of his head and down his back. His nostrils flared with each huff of air the monster took to breathe, the permanent snarl on his face caused by his exposed, jagged fangs spotted with blood. The curved horns on either side of his head were impressively large, curved in on themselves to nearly a full turn.

In the stillness of that frozen moment in time, _______ took in all the details she could until the scene began to come off stranger and stranger to her. So strange, in fact, that she slowly began to loosen up her own fearfully tense stance.

There was something odd about the blood on the beast’s teeth. The blood was still wet, dripping from the tips of his fangs and clinging to the pale scales around his maw. Slowly, her gaze wandered down to his paws to see if there was blood staining them to suggest an attack on his part, but no.

They were clean.

_______ shook her head in confusion at this and finally lowered her pistol. If the Deathclaw himself hadn’t killed anything to have the blood spotted on his mouth, then where did the blood come from?

The answer to the question quickly came to her when her gaze finally landed on the creature’s stomach. From the position he was in, she could see a couple of long, deep gashes running down from the top of what appeared to be his stomach all the way down to about the level of the joints of his hind legs. Blood leisurely trickled from the wounds, soaked up by the dead leaf litter the beast curled up on. Finally, the realization of the situation dawned upon the young woman and her eyes instantly returned to meet his golden ones.

He didn’t look at her with the intent to kill.

He looked at her with exhaustion, pain and fear swelled in his gaze.

_______’s arms dropped to her sides as a heavy sadness befell her and morphed the softening gaze in her eyes. “Is this where you came to die…?” She quietly asked the beast, maintaining eye contact with him, hoping to find an answer in the otherworldly colors of his gaze.

The only answer she received in response was the sound of his labored, huffed breaths and a low growl weakly rumbling from deep within his scaly chest.

In response, she shoved her pistol into its holster by her hip, deciding in that very moment without an ounce of hesitation what she would do next. Fearlessly, she stood to her feet and turned to run back to the boathouse.

All the settlers had found their way inside the shelter as soon as she had left them to deal with the beast, so she wasn’t surprised that she didn’t have anyone waiting for her on the porch when she got back. Her heavy steps thundered up the wooden porch regardless, quickly kicking the door open to rush herself inside. Within the makeshift living room, a few settlers began to bombard her with worrisome questions, but she ignored them all and instead focused on the task at hand.

Rushing into the kitchen, she threw open the door of the fridge she had installed for them a few weeks back. Within the fridge were several wrapped up chops of Radstag meat she and a few others had personally harvested from nearby herds. Pulling a couple of her own chops out, she tucked the packages beneath her right arm and slammed the fridge shut before rushing her way passed the settlers and up the stairs. On the second floor, there was another group of settlers anxiously trying to get answers from her, but still the woman would not address any of their concerns. The only person she did stop and look to was the sniper she had asked to watch her back. Their eyes met and she furrowed her brow seriously at the other woman.

“Stand down. I won’t be needing your backup.”

Plain and simple, the order reached the sniper and she did as she was told despite the confusion which came to her due to the command. _______ didn’t bother to clarify. Instead, she rushed over to the first aid kit she knew was in the bathroom, quickly prying it open just to find that the little white box was empty.

“Where are your stimpaks?!” She called out to the people in the group, forcing her voice to boom above their unrest.

“We ran out two nights ago,” An elder gentleman voiced through the crowd. “We’ve been waiting for a caravan to pass through to restock.”

“ _Shit!_ ” _______ cursed loudly, closing the little box and putting it back in its place before turning to plop herself down on the floor. There, she pried the backpack she had on her person off of her and quickly proceeded to dump its contents onto the wooden floor beneath their feet, praying to whoever was listening that there would be at least one stimpak within her things.

After all, she hadn’t restocked in a few days, either.

She had come to Taffington in hopes of restocking once she dealt with their predicament and found Trashcan Carla to let her know the roads were clear.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” One of them asked, a man, though she didn’t know which one. Her eyes were focused on the clutter of water bottles, cans of Cram and boxes of ammunition in hopes of finding what she was looking for. “Did it hurt you when you went out to check?”

“No,” She firmly replied. “He didn’t do anything to me. He’s hurt and dying and I don’t intend on leaving him like that. I need the stimpak for _him_.”

Immediately after the controversial words left her, the small crowd erupted in stunned, bewildered chaos.

“What?! Heal a Deathclaw?! Is she insane!?”

“It’ll be the death of us all!”

“She really has no idea what she’s doing!”

“Have the Minutemen gone mad?!”

“I say we should kill the damn thing while its down!”

“Put a bullet through its head!”

“Sally can get back on the ledge and snipe it from here!”

“ ** _NOBODY_** _is touching him!_ ”

_______’s voice boomed through the uproar, her gaze lifting to sharply glare the sniper down in warning. “He is already _bleeding to death_. Something else must have attacked him and this is where he had crawled himself out to die. He hasn’t done a damn thing to any of you or the boathouse and I _won’t let you_ hurt him any further without reason. _Stand **down**_.”

Sally, who had already gripped her gun to get the job done, stared at the Minutemen’s General with uncertainty and disbelief. Nonetheless, she backed away from the ledge as she was told. 

As soon as she was certain the sniper wouldn’t do anything, _______ returned her attention to her belongings on the floor. Rifling through them for a bit longer in her rush, she eventually came across two stimpaks she had forgotten she even had. Taking them in her grasp, the woman pushed herself onto her feet and ran out of the boathouse just as quickly as she had stormed into it. Through the gaps and broken walls of the house, the settlers continued to watch with scrutinizing sights as the naïve vault dweller rushed towards the beast feared throughout the wastes.

She was thankful that the creature wasn’t very far. It didn’t take her long at all to return to his side, though she still came to a stop a few feet away from where he was curled up. She may be a little naïve, but she wasn’t downright foolish. Any injured animal would spring to the attack if they felt cornered or in danger.

When she came to stand before him, it appeared the Deathclaw seemed to have caught a whiff that something was going on with this young woman, and that information caused for him to become cautious. The beast, though in great pain, lifted his large head and bared all of his bloodied teeth at her, forcing out a deep warning snarl in her direction. He dared not move, for he knew if he did, the injury clawed down his belly would tear and worsen the pain of his imminent death.

“Shh, it’s okay…” _______ attempted to calm the beast, holding her hands out as a gesture of peace and calming. “I’m not here to hurt you, big guy…I’m trying to help you…” She muttered to him. She figured he didn’t understand a word she was saying nor what she was trying to do for him, but a part of her would like to believe maybe he would. After all, she had heard stories of intelligent Deathclaws out there somewhere in the wastes…Maybe this one was like that too? Who knows. Whether he did or didn’t did not matter at the moment. What mattered was the beast’s life she was trying to save.

“Look,” She called his attention, slowly shoving her stimpaks into the pocket of her pants before pulling the Radstag chops out from under her arm and into her open hands. Once there, she carefully unwrapped the chop right on top first and showed it to the Deathclaw, a small, warm smile coming to her lips in the process. “I’ve brought you some food. You must be hungry, huh, pal?”

The Deathclaw, in that moment, appeared hesitant. He gave the human another low growl, but his nostrils flared far more prominently this time around than they had earlier when she first found him. His golden gaze darted away from hers and instead focused on the chop in her hand. A long, dark and slimy forked tongue soon began to flick out of the creature’s mouth, going in and out repeatedly as though he were tasting the air near the raw meat. _______ nodded approvingly, taking a step or two forward to test the waters. When she found the beast didn’t react negatively to her advance, she took it as a sign to get a little closer.

“That’s it…That’s a good boy…See? I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just here to help you get better.” She cooed gently, widening her smile softly as she very carefully approached to set the first chop on the ground in front of him where he could easily reach and eat. As soon as she did, she took a few steps back to show she truly meant no harm.

Quizzically, the great beast looked at her and tilted his head, his tongue flicking in the air in her direction. When she didn’t move, he disregarded her for a moment and turned his attention to the chop in front of him, quickly gobbling the chunk of meat up – wrapping and all.

_______ assumed it didn’t necessarily matter whether he ate the wrapping or not. Deathclaws were built to deal with things far more dangerous than some dirty old newspapers.

“You liked it, huh?” She asked with a quiet little laugh. “Here, I have a few more for you.” Carefully, she approached him once more, but this time, she took a risk and knelt down before his great form. He stared down at her with unblinking eyes, his black tongue slowly licking over his maw and jagged, yellowed teeth – but he showed no interest in attacking her. _______ took this gesture as a good sign that he was understanding her good intent and proceeded to lay the four chops she had left on the ground. One by one, she went about unwrapping each of them for him and then sat back on her haunches to stare up at the mighty creature. “Go ahead,” She enthused. “They’re all yours.”

He stared at her in response and gradually brought his head down to her level. She grew a little nervous at the close proximity of his face to her own, the feel of the hot huffs of his breath flaring from his nostrils warming the skin of her face, but still she didn’t move. After a few moments, the creature turned his attention to the meat gifted to him and proceeded to gobble down each chop with their wrappers without hesitation.

She looked down at the creature before her and watched as he ate, taking in the details of his massive head once more. His scales looked rough and coarse, hardened naturally to defend the mighty beast from the unforgiving elements it was born unto. Such a wild, savage animal, and yet…all she wanted to do for him in this moment in time was to nurse him back to health so he could live a full, happy life – whatever that kind of life entailed for a Deathclaw.

Without thinking, _______ reached forward and gently placed a hand on the beast’s left horn. She kept it still on the serrated, brusque bone, waiting to see how the creature responded. When all he did was stop chewing and look at her, she began to gently stroke and pet his horn, showing the creature affection as though he were an individual similar to Dogmeat – a faithful companion she could depend on and take care of and vice versa.

Before she knew it, the mighty beast’s chest began to rumble in what sounded like an unnatural purr. It was raspy and rough, very similar to a growl, but there was a notable softness in the sound and calmness which befell the creature when it continued to eat that let her know otherwise.

“You’re not a bad guy at all…You’re just scared and hurt…It’s all gonna be okay now. I’ll take care of you.” She cooed to him, now moving her hand to pet the top of the creature’s head as it finished the last chop she had brought him. After a few more affectionate strokes paid to his head, she brought her hand back to her pocket to pull out the stimpaks she had with her for him. She opened her palm, allowing the beast to see and sniff at the syringes. “You see these? They’re going to help you get better soon. It’ll pinch, but they’ll help you. I’m sure you’ll be able to take the pinch better than I ever do. I’m pretty handy in a gunfight, but I’m terribly squeamish of needles. Isn’t that something?” She remarked, rolling her eyes at herself with a light giggle.

The creature merely turned his golden gaze back to her expression, watching her as his tongue flicked at the air in her direction. She softened her gaze at the sight. “You hold on tight, alright? I’ll make it quick.” She assured and began to scoot herself over to the beast’s belly on her knees.

The Deathclaw laid still, bringing his head back down to rest upon his paws on the ground while watching the human bring the syringe to his side. _______ took in a quiet breath, getting a little nervous again as she leveled the first syringe in between two scales and pressed its needle against the squishy flesh they shielded. Would he become enraged with her when she injects him? She prayed not, because things had been going so well thus far…

She wanted this to work.

She wanted him to get better

She wanted him to _live._

Nodding her head to reassure herself, she finally pushed and plunged the needle into the Deathclaw’s skin, injecting him with the healing regenerative serum within.

The mighty beast, in response, didn’t even flinch.

He simply stared at her and continued that odd, coarse purring.

_______ let out a relieved sigh as she pulled out the empty syringe. “You’re quite the trooper, buddy. I commend you for being able to last this long with these gashes and taking the needle without a flinch. You’re definitely a lot tougher than I am.” She praised the beast, continuing to speak to it as she brought the second stimpak to his skin and injected the serum into him again. When it emptied, she gently pulled it out and disposed of both the empty syringes by tossing them down the hill behind her. She then moved away from his stomach to hopefully make him feel more secure with her and once again sat on her haunches by his head. Once she sat, she looked over to his stomach to see that the torn skin was already slowly beginning to piece itself back together – definitely a good sign that he was going to make it.

“Look at that, buddy!” She chimed, petting his head once more with glee shinning in her eyes. “You’re already getting better! Isn’t that great?” She noticed she was talking to him a lot like she did to Dogmeat. She supposed it was a force of habit. She loved Dogmeat and wanted to keep him safe and happy, so that’s the way she acted towards and treated him. Now, she wanted the same for this poor Deathclaw whom once thought his end was near, but oh no, this vault dweller wasn’t about to let his end come so soon!

The mighty beast already seemed to be regaining his strength. As the gashes on his stomach closed up more and more, he began to stretch himself out on the ground, a few pops echoing from its spine-covered back. Soon enough, he appeared to feel so well, he actually sat himself up correctly.

Staring up at his massive stature, _______ let out a quiet gasp in awe. She stood herself up to better gaze upon the impressive creature with a joyous smile brightening her expression. The Deathclaw, in response, peered down at her and blinked his golden eyes before leaning his head down to her level once more. There, he began to flick his tongue out against her cheek, his purrs becoming louder than before while butting his head against hers.

She giggled happily at the gesture and cupped the beast’s cheeks in her palms, stroking his scaly skin with her thumbs affectionately. “You’re welcome, pal. I’m glad the stimpaks did the trick.” She cooed, meeting his gaze once more as she patted his cheeks. “Now you go off and live a long, happy life, alright?”

He simply purred on in reply, flicking his tongue over her forehead, his clawed paws actually pawing at her gently before he nuzzled his head down to her shoulder instead. He was grateful, clearly he was, and now it seemed he was attached. On the brink of death, the deadly and feared legend of the wastes was showed kindness at the hands of a human.

A human he now deemed his own.

A human he would protect just as she had protected him.

A human to be a faithful companion for.

It was a uniquely cool thought, the idea of wandering the Commonwealth with a Deathclaw as a member of her family just as Dogmeat, Preston and the others are. If she could get the settlers back in her hometown in Sanctuary to accept him, she’d even have a place for him to stay and live peacefully. The boathouse was automatically out of the question, and if Sanctuary didn’t work, then she could figure something else out. That, however, was merely a thought. A wistful, eccentric idea the woman felt impossible to occur.

A lovely idea that was quickly shattered by the sound of a gun cocking in the distance behind her.

_______’s eyes immediately widened at the sound, recognizing it the second it reached her ears. Without thinking, the woman didn’t even turn to see who had pulled the trigger. She simply acted on instinct and turned to embrace the Deathclaw’s head, shielding him from the sniper’s bullet that would’ve hit him if she hadn’t moved. The bullet embedded itself deep into the back of her shoulder and elicited a shrill cry from her lips due to the burning pain the shot erupted through her arm’s flesh.

The creature startled at this and pulled his head away from the human’s arms, looking down at her to see her painfully gripping at her shoulder and collapsing to her knees. The beast’s eyes widened and focused on the blood now slowly soaking up the back of the woman’s shirt before he turned his view to the settlers in the boathouse who were responsible for this. His expression molded to a look of violent aggression and he threw his head back, a _deafening_ roar echoing coarsely from him. The settlers in the boathouse began to panic wildly, realizing the grave mistake they had suddenly made, but rather than charge at them to wipe the settlement clean of life, the Deathclaw had instead picked up the human woman whom had cared for him in his arms. Cradling her against his own bloodied form, the terrifying legend of the wastes gave one more mighty roar in the settlers’ direction before turning on his heels and sprinting further out into the distant dead field away from the boathouse.

The human woman had shown him kindness.

Something he had never before known.

For that, he will show her the same kindness in return.

He will show her kindness, because he wants her to _live_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed the read~! Let me know what you all thought c: I might consider coming back to this in the future if it has a good enough reception c: if you're into video game fics and you haven't already, maybe check out my Outlast fic on my account! ^u^ Thanks a lot again for the read! Much love and God bless~!~<3


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